Someplace Warm
by Rothelena
Summary: Both utterly lonely and unable to form serious relationships, Jane and Lisbon strike a deal. Starts angsty, but moves to fluff pretty fast. Not much plot, I'm afraid. Now T, may go to M later, but I won't exaggerate...this is not a piece of hotness.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not sure if it's foolish of me to attempt a new multichapter, for I've been going through a dry phase lately…no idea how fast I'll be able to update this story, but I'll try!_

_This story will probably stay T for some chapters, but may turn M eventually…I'll warn you if that happens!_

_I apologize to the Mashburn-fans for making Lisbon reject him :D. But I had to destroy the last bridge to make this story work._

_One last remark: I'm aware the characters are OOC in my stories, at least sometimes, maybe even most of the time. I always try to bend and twist them a little, to discover something I don't normally see. So forgive me if I let them cross some rivers they normally wouldn't, and act a little bit out of control with each other. It's just part of my fun._

_There is not much actual plot in this story, it is very much about interior monologue, emotions, sudden revelations, quiet times. Some kind of reflection. Nothing more._

_It won't have that many chapters, but some. Maybe five or six, I don't know yet._

_Disclaimer: still not mine. Darn._

Someplace Warm

Chapter one

The candle flame flickered restlessly in the attic's darkness, and he could barely resist to put his skin in its center. Smell the sharp stench of burnt flesh. Feel the cleansing pain consume his body.

But Patrick Jane just watched, looking at the fusion of colors in the middle of the dancing flame.

A part of him wanted to avoid the memories. But he couldn't help it…not tonight.

The laughter of a beautiful woman at her wedding day, her body moving gracefully in her cheap white dress while she threw the bunch of flowers she'd carried to the ceremony high above her head. A warm, wriggling newborn placed in his arms, faint traces of blood encrusting her blond hair. Blood. Toenails painted in gore. Mangled flesh. Blood. Everywhere. A smiling face on the wall. He cringed, his eyes fluttering shut.

Eight years since his life had ended. Eight years since he'd had a good night's sleep. Eight years since he'd felt like a normal, sane person.

Eight years since his heart had shriveled and shrunken into something hurting and disgusting, barely able to pump the blood through his body. But not able to feel much beside the determination to find revenge and utter despair.

Eight years. This day.

Jane dipped his finger into the flame and savored the sting for a second, pulling back before it grew into real pain.

And suddenly, he realized that despite everything he had built for himself, everything he had mended, everything that was somehow back in working order…there was a threshold he couldn't cross. He wasn't able to form decent relationships any longer. He had tried. It hadn't worked out.

So it was time to face the music, wasn't it?

He would never fall in love again. Never be a husband, a father again. The peaceful existence of normal people lay in his past- here, in his personal little hell, there was just him, him alone and his reflection in the dusty window panes. His features looked devious and haunted in the gloomy illumination of the single candle, and he noticed that this was pretty much what was left of him. The schemer. The liar. The sufferer.

But there were things he felt. Disgust for those who hurt others for their own good. Empathy for the hurting, the grieving, the desperate, even though he managed to mask those feeling until he hardly recognized them himself. He didn't want to feel, it made him stupid and vulnerable, and it made him want foolish things he'd never have.

It made him feel lonely. And yes- the loneliness hurt. It stung and burned, made him run through the streets at night, aimlessly, not knowing what he hoped to find, watching kissing lovers with a sensation of deep, unfathomable loss in his heart. He wasn't part of this world any longer. But he was so, so lonely.

He would die of the loneliness one day.

Jane licked his fingers and extinguished the flame. He would sleep on his couch tonight, in the bullpen. It wouldn't make the loneliness more bearable.

But he knew: nothing would.

So everything was just a question of choices and decisions.

xxMentalistxx

The pavement was wet and cold, but she couldn't walk in the high heels any longer to save her life, so she simply pulled them off and walked through the dark streets on naked feet.

The rain kept pouring down, wetting the short red dress she was wearing, making the satiny fabric cling to her frame. She shivered. Imagined that her mascara had probably run all over her face, making her look as if she'd been crying. Maybe she had. She couldn't remember through all the cold and frustration.

She wanted to throw something. Maybe break it in the process.

She got rid of her shoes at the next trash can she came upon. She had no need for high heels any longer. Never again.

For after tonight, she would never date again. Would never let a man near her. Would face the loneliness like a big girl.

Damn, she simply wasn't made for this. Teresa Lisbon was a loner. And she would stay that way.

Yes, she had had high hopes just this morning. Walter Mashburn had invited her for dinner, something exclusive, fancy, and she had felt like a little princess for a moment. Had entertained thoughts about a future, a One-night-stand here and there, and maybe a little bit more eventually, who knew. She'd had sex with him once, hadn't she? Had been fun. She could do it again, huh? Sure, she could. Piece of cake.

But when she'd sat down with him, looking at his face in the bright illumination of what seemed like a thousand candles, the service so exclusive, their table romantically secluded, Walter's smile so superior and easy, she had suddenly realized that she felt hollow. Utterly empty. Not excited. Not attracted. Certainly not in love.

She'd suffered through dinner, nearly jumping out of her skin every time he had touched her.

Hell, what was the matter with her? She hadn't sex in what felt like eons. It was about time, wasn't it?

But when he'd extended his hand to lead her to his waiting car, a bright red status symbol that gleamed in the streetlights, everything inside her had recoiled. She couldn't go with him. Couldn't touch him. Couldn't kiss him.

She'd fled.

And just like that, special agent Teresa Lisbon's bright dating career had been over.

She would never attempt something like this again. Men made her feel inept and awkward, love was so far away it seemed like an alien concept after all those years. She was pretty old now anyway. And she had her work. She liked her work. That was something, wasn't it?

She stepped into a shard of glass and hissed when the pain flared through her. Nothing bad, though, just a tiny cut.

The rain was cold, almost freezing. Fall in Sacramento.

And she was so, so lonely.

A sob caught her attention. So she was crying after all. Pathetic, foolish Lisbon. What have you been thinking? Happily ever after, tonight? Just like this? She snorted, almost disgusted with herself.

She looked up and wasn't surprised to find herself in front of CBI headquarters.

Maybe she should move in here? Would make things so much easier.

She certainly would be able to find something to do, wouldn't she? Some paper work. There was always paper work. And she preferred the unobtrusive silence of her office to the suffocating muteness of her apartment anytime.

Good thing she had the CBI. Even though she had no shoes.

So she went inside, dripping and shivering, her foot bleeding softly.

xxMentalistxx

She felt like chuckling when she stepped from the lift. Jim had looked at her as if she was an apparition. Well, she guessed she was quite a sight, wet like a drenched kitten, shoeless, her make up all over her face. The watchman had possibly thought she was crazy, pathetic and needed to get a life ASAP. Which wasn't too far from the truth, pretty close actually, so…what the hell.

She passed the bullpen and stopped dead in her tracks.

For on the worn leather couch at the back of the room, dressed in an immaculate three-piece-suit, a turquoise cup in his hand, his blond curls combed to shining perfection, sat Patrick Jane. He watched her quietly, the cup raised as if he'd been about to take a sip.

"Lisbon, as a friend?" he said softly," This doesn't look good."

And she smiled despite the dreariness of the night.

**TBC…**

_That is, if you want to read more. Tell me what you think of this, will you? I'll be forever grateful._


	2. Chapter 2

_By the way: Jane's sentence "As a friend? That doesn't look good." is a quote, of course…Lisbon says exactly that when she rouses him from his sleep at the beginning of episode 3x04. Thank you SO MUCH for your encouraging reviews- I'll go on, I promise!_

Chapter two

She sat down next to him, conscious of her drenched state, but he didn't seem to mind, so she didn't either.

He watched her intently, but she found she couldn't look at him, so she studied the floor instead, following the lines of the timber piling with her eyes.

"Rough night, huh?" Jane asked after a lengthy silence "Do you want some tea? Don't answer, please…it's a rhetorical question."

She smiled, watching him wander into the kitchen area. He knew that she would have turned down his offer if he'd given her half a chance. So he hadn't.

He returned some minutes later and handed her the cup, without the saucer, he knew she hated those…hated the delicacy and all the handling problems, she liked to clutch the cup with both hands, exactly as she did now.

The heat felt good against her palms, stinging her into awareness when she had been so numb all evening.

He had brought a band-aid and a paper napkin and squatted down in front of her, pulling her injured foot into his lap. He started to clean the cut, touching her freezing skin with his hot hands, finally applying the plaster. She shuddered when he held her foot a little bit longer, rubbing some warmth into it before he carefully put it on the ground and sat down next to her.

She took another sip of her tea and placed the cup on the armrest.

Jane relaxed slightly, for the first time in hours. Funny that the loneliness seemed to evaporate just looking at her, taking her in like a picture. She was so small, almost frail. Pretty disheveled. Something inside him desperately wished to make it better, whatever it was that had hurt her.

"So…what did he do?" he asked, and she looked at him for the first time.

"Who?" she whispered flatly.

"Mashburn." He prompted softly and smiled when her eyes went wide "Oh, come on, Lisbon. You're dressed like a queen, no shoes, so they were possibly uncomfortable, which points to high heels, and you donned a glitzy necklace and shed your cross for it. You wanted to look like a rich little girl tonight. And since you despise most filthy rich people except one…well, it didn't take too much to make an educated guess."

Her hand went to her throat and touched the fake rubies, and suddenly she was ashamed, they felt wrong, so wrong, they weren't her, what had she been thinking, for god's sake. She felt fresh tears bubbling up inside her and swallowed, groping for her purse, fishing out the golden cross. Her cross. She fastened it around her neck while Jane's hand wandered around her shoulder to unhook the fake necklace. It fell into her hands like a dead weight.

His fingers were warm, almost hot against her clammy skin. He lingered for some moments, barely touching her, and when he pulled his hand away she felt bereft.

"What are you doing here?" she asked into the silence "Shouldn't you try to get some sleep?"

"I'm sad," he said calmly "it's the eighth anniversary today, you know?"

Utter dread gripped her heart. Damn.

"Oh Jane, I'm…"

"No," he interrupted, unceremoniously taking her hand in his, "don't say it. I know you're sorry. So…what did Mashburn do?"

"He didn't do anything," she sighed "it's not him- it's me. I just can't…I don't…want that anymore. No, it's not about wanting- I can't do it anymore. I…just can't. Somehow. Damn, listen to me, I have to be the most miserable…"

"No," Jane interrupted again, "I understand. You can't do dates. Sex. Relationships. Love. Believe me- I know how that feels. All those normal people, huh? They make it look so easy. And everything that ever comes out of it is more loneliness. Are you lonely, Lisbon?"

She didn't need to answer, and she knew it. The loneliness radiated from her in big, sickening waves, it seemed to fill the room to the brim. She swallowed drily.

"Yeah," Jane whispered "me, too."

His voice sounded so miserable and lost that her heart constricted. She could barely keep herself from grabbing him, taking him into her arms, shielding him against all that suffering. Maybe it would feel good. Maybe it would help her, too. But her fists clenched next to her, and she did nothing. Chicken.

Suddenly, the noise of her own blood was deafening. The lump in her throat so big it was chafing against her windpipe, rubbing it raw. The air was wheezing in her lungs and she felt the numb sensation of impending unconsciousness, blurring her world at the edges…

"Teresa," he breathed urgently, and her tears started to fall.

Slithering through her ruined make up. Searing her skin with their heat. She tried to contain her sobs, heavy, wracking sobs that would shake the walls if she let them out, so she had to stop, now…

Jane framed her face with his hands, made her look at him. Rubbed through the blackened streaks of her tears with his thumbs. Her eyes were huge. Green like a summer forest. He wanted to drown in them, right now.

He pulled her closer until her face rested against his shoulder, and she thought no, no, she would get him all dirty, the immaculate suit, his precious shirt, he mustn't do that…she tried to pull back, but he held her firmly in place, his body unrelenting, and so warm all around her.

She sobbed so hard he felt sound and impact in the pit of his stomach.

Like the faint thunder of an approaching tempest. He held tight. Murmuring sweet nothings, his calm voice so soothing that she stopped crying eventually, stilling in his arms. And he kept on whispering, his soft words almost lulling her to sleep. His hand stroked her hair. She leant into the touch.

He felt his own loneliness shrinking, getting smaller and smaller until it was just a dull throbbing at the back of his mind, his soul so full of her presence he almost forgot how to suffer.

"Let's make a pact, Teresa." She heard him whisper "Whenever one of us feels like this, let's turn to each other. No questions. No doubts. No expectations. Nobody has to give more than he can. Whatever there is- it has to be enough."

"I can't give much at the moment." She breathed, sniffling, her voice small like a little child's.

"Doesn't matter." He said "I can probably give even less. No expectations, Teresa. No promises. But we will know where to turn to when we can't go without human contact any longer. We won't need lovers. Spouses. Relationships. We'll have each other. For hugs, for company, whatever. No strings attached. Just comfort. Just someplace warm. Someplace where we won't be rejected, where we can't fail, no matter what."

She closed her eyes. It sounded so good, and she just wanted to say yes. Come to him every night for this feeling, to keep the desperation at bay. He offered what she needed. And she didn't want to turn away.

Jane waited for her answer, a little breathless. He knew that he was needy. Not half as impassive as he wanted everyone to believe. One day, the loneliness would drive him away. Onto the streets. Into oblivion. But he didn't want to go. Didn't want to lose his sanity. Didn't want her to leave his embrace.

But she straightened, slipping out of his arms, and he noticed himself staying poised the way he had been, remembering how she had felt wrapped in his hug.

"I'd be afraid to really turn to you," she said "you are…" _larger than life. So much stronger than I am. Sometimes so far away. _"…I would feel awkward to…take advantage of you like this."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he smiled, his voice still so calm despite the sadness he had to feel "I will pester you until you think I am a piece of your furniture. I'll be so available you have no choice but to use me."

He savored her sweet, secret smile and picked up his teacup from his desk where he had placed it earlier. He took a sip before he looked at her again.

"I've been very lonely lately, Teresa," he whispered, "I need you."

She knew he built her a bridge. He could take so much more than she could. But she saw the edge of his misery in his beautiful eyes and understood that maybe, just maybe he was right. And she could see how much it cost him to admit it. She couldn't push his gift, his trust away.

She tenderly touched his face, brushing her fingertips over his pale lips.

Then she pretended to spit into her palm and extended her hand.

He smiled and did the same, finally taking her small hand in his bigger one.

"Deal." He said.

"Deal." She answered.

**TBC**

_Okay, that's the deal. Let's see what comes out of it. Somehow, I'm not convinced that these two will never fall in love again, but that's just stupid me thinking :D…for those of you who like angst, just a fair warning: it will get rather fluffy now- we're entering the more light-hearted comfort-zone. You still with me here? Feedback is DIRELY NEEDED!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning for all the angst-friends among you: we're firmly on comfort- territory at the moment. _

_And: if you thought the last chapter OOC, wait what I do to them in this chapter- it gets worse, I'm afraid. So please, forgive me my leniency- it's just so much fun._

_Thank you so much for your relentless reviewing- I'm floored! _

_Time for a little fluff!_

Someplace Warm

Chapter 3

Maybe she should get a cat, Lisbon thought while she pulled the comfortable tank top over her head on another lonely Friday evening. Too bad she didn't like animals that much.

Her apartment was rather big, wasn't it? Why in hell had she ever thought she would need so much space? Now everything made her loneliness protrude more sharply. She felt lost inside her world.

She had thought about searching out Jane's closeness after he had solved the latest exhausting case. Child abuse had been in the middle of it, and the memories the investigation had roused in Lisbon weren't cheerful.

Her whole life was a failure, wasn't it?

Well, at least she caught killers, that had to count for something.

She wanted to be close to Jane, to drown in his embrace. Pushing her face beneath the lapels of his jacket until she would simply vanish for some hours. Untraceable.

But she felt shy about their deal (and she had known she would feel exactly like this, hadn't she?). She couldn't treat him like a stuffed animal. Couldn't turn to him just for her selfish comfort. No matter how much she wanted to. Yes, she wanted to. And that scared her more than anything. More than all the loneliness and the bleak future that may lay ahead.

She sighed in exasperation. Damn. She felt so much like cuddling tonight.

xxMentalistxx

Jane walked through the aisles of the local supermarket and studied the display of groceries. He didn't feel like cooking tonight.

Maybe Lisbon would be content if he brought her some ice cream and a bottle of red wine? He just wanted to crash at her apartment, watch some TV, and talk. And, yes: hold her in his arms.

Funny, but he had hated to be touched those past eight years. It had always scared him, made him feel vulnerable and defenseless, he could get something very similar to a panic attack when women made a move on him. He could flirt and charm almost anybody without a problem, but as soon as they touched him, all he could think about was escape.

But he could touch Lisbon. He had enjoyed holding her. And his body had absorbed her warmth like a dry sponge.

He sighed. This was just about comfort, wasn't it? He had gone eight years without physical contact. She was his best friend. No complications there. He would just hug her, watch some TV, and feed her the best ice cream he could find.

Nothing but good times ahead.

He whistled when he made his choice from the huge assortment of red wine.

He felt more alive than he had…in eight years.

xxMentalistxx

Lisbon lay on her bed and watched another silly TV-show about romantically involved people who were heading straight for their happily ever after. She sighed. It stung when she saw people kiss these days. Would she ever feel a man's lips on hers again? Highly unlikely. A single one-night-stand in five years, and a whole bunch of bad dates she didn't even want to think about. She was a workaholic and proud of it. Who needed men?

Damn, why hadn't she thought of buying something sweet to keep her company? She was in dire neat of something sugary coating her tongue right now…

She froze and straightened slowly. Had somebody knocked on her door? Her heartbeat accelerated until it bordered on painful. She leapt from the mattress and raced to the front door, her legs a little wobbly all of a sudden.

Jane stood in front of the door, smiling, his arms loaded with groceries, overnight bag dangling from his shoulder.

"Don't expect too much, Lisbon," he said, pushing past her already heading for her kitchen "I'm not in the mood to cook tonight, so I bought about everything that can be enjoyed without much preparation. Including some red wine, I thought after this week's case, you could certainly need something to take your mind on a little journey."

Lisbon watched him while he put the ice cream into the freezer and opened the bottle of red wine.

"Do I hear the TV running?" he asked "That's great, I feel like mindless entertainment…I can stay here for the night, can't I?"

Lisbon felt heat flush her body. This couldn't end well.

"Uhm…yeah, sure." She breathed.

"Excellent," he smiled "I'm using your bathroom to change into my pajamas- afterwards, we'll…bum around on your bed, okay?"

She nodded and watched him snag his overnight bag on the way to the bathroom.

She groaned inwardly. Somehow, she had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

xxMentalistxx

Half an hour later, she found herself sitting on her bed with her blond consultant lying next to her, shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Lisbon had to smile. His pajamas were…somehow cute. Light blue, terribly decent, they absolutely made a fatherly impression. But they suited him, somehow- Jane was a distinguished guy, and she bet he had been a great father. He loved children, and children loved him. Damn, he should be a father again.

What would it feel like to be pregnant? Her flat stomach growing round with the baby…oh my god, what the hell was she thinking?

Her utter horror must have had registered on her face, for Jane turned onto his side and looked at her.

"Maybe I have to get you drunk to make you loosen up, woman," he sighed "you exude so much tension I'm afraid you might snap any minute. For god's sake, snuggle up against me, will you? I know you want it, I can read it on your face."

That was what was written on her face? Heavens, she was doomed.

"This is about comfort and warmth," he continued, "and you look pretty cold over there in your flimsy sleep wear. Come over here- I don't bite."

He rolled onto his back and extended his arm in a gesture of invitation.

She looked at him for quite a while before she scooted over and slid into his embrace, placing her head on his chest. He hugged her to him, and she realized that she was indeed cold, goose bumps rising all over her arms when the heat of his skin seeped into her. She sighed in contentment and felt his chest move when he chuckled.

They watched TV. Lisbon didn't like to watch TV, despite the fact that she did it all the time…nothing to do in her empty apartment with no one to talk to, and the silence drove her insane at night, so she accepted the dull company of all those mostly boring personalities she met on screen.

But Patrick Jane talked while he watched. Constantly. He didn't stop once. He told her stories, commented on every phrase spoken on TV, followed his associations, joked around. He even sang sometimes.

Lisbon had a vague notion that she should have been annoyed, but she wasn't. In fact, she loved it. Loved his voice, so warm and soft, loved the rumble in his chest whenever he spoke, the deep sonorous waves reaching her ear. It soothed her beyond comparison, until she almost fell asleep with delight.

Suddenly he grew silent, and when she looked at him she found him grinning down at her. Rather smugly. Her eyes snapped open, and utter mortification made her blush all over. Fiercely.

For suddenly she noticed that she had pushed her hand under his pajama top and was gently stroking his stomach.

She gasped and moved to pull back, but Jane was faster. He grabbed her wrist and trapped her there.

"Go on," he said softly "that feels nice. Remember our deal, Lisbon? No expectations. And I don't have any. I don't expect this hand to wander anywhere else. Everything is alright. You see that talk show host? He hates his guest exactly as much as his job. Lying through his teeth. And his interview partner is lying, too. That's TV for you, huh? A universe full of liars…"

It took a while before she moved her hand again, but eventually, she did. The soft, sliding sensation of her small hand against his skin was soothing. He pushed any signs of indecent excitement down with a bio-feedback-trick. No need to scare her with absolutely understandable physical reactions.

He allowed his hand to slide beneath her tank top and petted her back, feeling her stiffen in his arms for a second.

"Relax," he drawled "I'm not asking you to marry me. I just do what feels good. Stop me if you don't like it."

He switched off the TV half an hour later. He could feel her tiredness in the way she slumped against him.

"Let's go to sleep, Lisbon," he whispered and pushed her onto the pillow, his movements sweet and gentle.

She was already half asleep, mumbling incoherent sentences to him, and he smiled fondly at her, spreading the comforter over both of them before he lay down next to her. His face was so close to hers their noses were almost touching.

"Lisbon?" he said.

Her eyes opened slowly.

"I have to give you your good-night-kiss." He whispered.

She gasped when he pressed his lips to hers, they were firm and dry and warm, and the heat flowed into her until her skin felt toasty everywhere, and then it was over. Just a sweet peck. He hadn't even tried to use his tongue.

"Good night, Lisbon." He whispered and closed his eyes.

It took a while for her to go to sleep. A very long while.

xxMentalistxx

Jane dreamed about a woman in a flowing white gown, flowers plaited into her long dark hair. When she turned and smiled at him, he saw that it was Lisbon. She held a bunch of red roses in front of her silky dress. She looked stunning, and she extended her hand towards him.

"Relax," she said "we're just doing what feels good, aren't we?"

He was confused. But he took her hand without hesitation.

"Yes," he heard himself say "we are."

His eyes snapped open in the darkness of Lisbon's bedroom.

What the hell had that been?

**TBC**

_All's well that ends well? Not quite….I'm afraid that deal is in great danger of being spoiled by honest feelings. So, just that you're not too disappointed: there might be some problems ahead, but this will have a happy ending!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you so much for your encouragement! It means the world to me!_

Someplace warm

Chapter four

Patrick Jane felt absurdly happy.

He'd never thought that this was what he needed- but it made him feel. Filled the emptiness in his soul with a warmth he could hardly remember. He'd been whole once. And suddenly, he could recall a hint of this state again.

It felt like the first touch of spring after an endless winter.

To avoid any complications, he simply programmed his dreams to work their cases while he slept. This was what they were supposed to do, not give him stupid, sweet images of…well, he simply ordered them not to confuse him further, and they didn't.

He went to her every night, like an addict, unable to risk this new state of mind, despite his refusal to analyze anything he was feeling. He took the sensations like a toddler. Sworn to the moment. Not bothering to ask any questions that might destroy what he experienced.

When he was with her, he was new. The past fell asleep for some precious hours. The torture ended with a look into her emerald green eyes. And Patrick Jane saw in her smile what he once had been.

They watched thunderstorms from her bedroom after they'd found out that they both loved them. Lying prone on her bed they saw lightning jolt across the violet-blue sky, saw the rivulets of rain streaming over the window panes, heard the thunder rumble in the distance.

He wrapped his arm around her small frame and pulled her closer, their hips touching. He smelled her shampoo, sensed the softness of her hair against his face and felt at home. So peaceful and pure.

Later that night he braided her hair into a French plaid.

She giggled.

"Jane," she said softly "What are you doing there?"

"Oh," he answered, smiling tenderly "I know what I'm doing…I used to braid my daughter's hair."

She fell silent, and his hands slid over her shoulders for some moments, absorbing the faint coolness her skin exuded. She was so small. It was a fulltime-job to keep her warm. He engulfed her in his arms and kissed her neck, carefully pushing the plaid aside. He willed his heat into her, and felt her slowly getting warm against his body. He pulled back and watched her turn. A smile spread on his face and Lisbon stifled a gasp.

He looked so young. So flawless. No medium would be able to capture what she saw in his eyes.

"You are beautiful." He said.

She nodded softly.

"I bet your daughter was, too." She whispered, bravely looking into his eyes.

"Yes," he said, and his smile got so sad her heart skipped a beat "she was."

He was silent for a while, his gaze wandering across the landscape of his memories, she could almost read the varying emotions on his features. When he looked at her, he made sure it was her he saw.

"Can I hold you?" he asked almost shyly.

"Of course." She nodded, her throat so tight she could hardly suck air through it.

And he held her for a long time, his breath rustling in her ears while his tears fell onto her shoulder. She touched his back and could trace every silent sob in the movement of his muscles. The fabric of his pajama top felt cool under her fingertips, but the exquisite heat of his skin seeped through, warming her palms.

Later he tried to find the most ticklish spot on her body. It didn't take him too long- it was at her hip, directly next to the sharply protruding bone. He slid his finger along the ridge and made her squeal.

He loved to cook for her, and it was in her kitchen that she heard him laugh for the first time. Deep, warm, loud laughter that made her heart soar with glee.

And he never, never forgot to kiss her goodnight, his lips resting against hers in a shy caress, just for a moment, swallowing each other's breath.

And he slept like an angel while she lay awake most of the night.

xxMentalistxx

Teresa Lisbon was worried. She felt like a traitor and didn't know why.

She knew she should simply stop touching him. Knew that she was violating their contract, all the time. For every time he put her hands on her, she held her breath, willing him to do more.

No expectations, he'd said. But she had dreams that contained a hope she couldn't allow herself.

They were friends, nothing more. And as a friend, she couldn't take from him. But she couldn't stop giving. Not when he seemed so free, so light for the first time since she knew him. She'd never seen him like this. It didn't matter what she felt, to look at him had to be enough. She'd never asked her heart about what it hid from her, for she was too afraid to hear the answer.

But she couldn't stop. Couldn't stop to want, couldn't stop to wait, couldn't stop the dreams. Couldn't stop her eyes from fluttering shut in bliss whenever he touched her. She depended on this touch, sometimes she thought it might be all that held her together these days. If she lost it, there would be only work. Again. She felt like a slave. Though she didn't even know what she was truly feeling right now.

She was confused as hell.

And then, one Saturday morning in October, she was busy doing the laundry, picking up garments all over her apartment. In the bedroom, she found Jane's pajamas and decided to wash those, too. She had no interest in becoming an obedient little hausfrau, but the danger was relatively low given her dire lack of talent in this area, so she would clean up for him this time.

When she knelt in the bathroom and loaded the clothes into the washing machine, the pajamas fell into her hands again. She paused for a moment, smiling softly. Touching the light blue shirt with her fingers, a sharp pull tugging at her heart, bittersweet. Almost a tiny bit painful. She buried her nose in the fabric and inhaled his scent- clean and unique, wrapping her mind in memories. Her fingers tightened, and she sighed, her insides awash with a mixture of unfathomable emotions. She honestly didn't know what to do.

Her eyes caught her reflection in the huge mirror that covered the whole bathroom door. She froze in shock.

For agent Teresa Lisbon might be a dull little spinster when it came to the dating business, might be a complete failure regarding her personal life, but she sure as hell wasn't stupid.

She recognized the signs. And watching herself like this, she couldn't pretend any longer.

She loved.

And she was not allowed to do that.

TBC

_A little bit short, but it's a good point for a full stop. More about Jane's emotional state tomorrow!_

_And: I can say now that this story will probably have seven chapters- and an epilogue! There is some trouble ahead, I'm afraid- but just some._


	5. Chapter 5

_Those reviews- I'm absolutely floored! Sorry that this isn't as fluffy as I promised….but the emotions in this somehow dictate themselves, there's nothing I can do against it…_

Someplace Warm

Chapter five

Gotcha, Patrick Jane thought while he stood behind the two-way-mirror and watched Cho and Lisbon interrogate the suspect. Meh, not suspect…the killer. Jane had no doubt the miserable sadist would confess in five minutes, tops.

The murderer scowled at the mirror.

You're welcome, Jane thought, my pleasure to wipe you from the streets.

"Well done, Jane," Rigsby murmured next to him "I would never have guessed him to be the killer. You're a freaking genius."

Jane smiled at him and shrugged jovially.

"Mr. Henderson," Lisbon said softly "I bet you're proud of your work, aren't you? Those bestial murders are a piece of art in your universe, I presume."

Jane saw Henderson snap before anybody else did.

"Those murders are a piece of art in EVERY universe, you stupid bitch!" Henderson yelled and jumped up, towering over Lisbon's tiny frame, grapping her lapels before he roughly pulled her up.

Jane stormed out of the door before he truly realized what he was doing, the blood boiling in his veins, vision clouded by a veil of sheer red. Rigsby managed to grab him before he opened the door to the interrogation room, immobilizing Jane's arms next to his body.

"Jane, are you crazy?" he shouted "The boss can handle this, she's a pro for god's sake, and Cho is in there! What do you want to do, give this trunk of a man a black eye or die trying? Possibly the latter, if you ask me. Well, that would make Lisbon happy… she would kill me on the spot!"

Jane cooled down immediately, trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his body. He stared at Rigsby wide-eyed. He had no idea what the hell had gotten into him…usually he ducked at the first sign of violence! He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants, breathing hard.

"Excuse me," he murmured, his head swimming "I have to lie down for a moment…"

And he walked to the bullpen as fast as his legs carried him, Rigsby's concerned gaze following him.

xxMentalistxx

About an hour later, Jane was still shaking, the turquoise cup in his hand rattling, the tea sloshing slightly. Damn, this level of emotionality was completely out of character for him! And Rigsby had witnessed it- he never let people see his feelings if he didn't want them to see! He shuddered imperceptibly.

Lisbon had handled everything, of course, a nice, perfect confession, the killer (including the very impressive black eye she had given him) handcuffed and arrested in seconds.

What had he been thinking to storm in there like an avenging angel? No, Jane admitted- he hadn't thought at all, and that was certainly new for him. He'd acted on instinct. In a matter of seconds.

He heard her voice and looked up, his heart hammering in his chest all of a sudden.

She talked to agent Malcolm, he was smiling at her and stood…pretty close. He was much taller than Jane, broad-shouldered, dark…the perfect romance-hero. Jane's heart constricted in his chest, pain jolted through his system and left him breathless. Suddenly he wanted to march over there and show him whose girl she was, pull her against his body, teach him who was allowed to touch…his eyes snapped open. What the hell was the matter with him? She was his friend, for heaven's sake, and they had…they had promised each other…

He jumped up and left the bullpen immediately, ignoring Lisbon's confused stare as he passed her by. He couldn't deal with her now. He had to cool off first.

When he came back down hours later it was dark, the bullpen deserted. She was gone.

No, he thought. Not tonight.

He'd never needed her as he needed her now.

He grabbed his jacket and all but ran to his car.

xxMentalistxx

Lisbon startled when she heard the distinctive knock at her door. She should just pretend not to be there. To be asleep. Whatever. She was betraying him. He thought he was holding a friend, while she craved his touch like a lover. She lied to him all the time. Damn, damn, damn, why hadn't she realized what she felt for him before she'd made that stupid deal?

Oh yeah, I forgot-Teresa Lisbon, the mistress of emotions. She'd been as stupid and blind as always. She groaned. She hadn't rejected Mashburn because she'd somehow overcome men in general, he'd just been the wrong m…

Jane knocked again, more insistent this time.

"Lisbon," she heard him through the door "open the door, please! I know you're there. I need you."

Noticing how that might sound, his voice grew softer.

"I can't be alone tonight," he said "I had one hell of a day. Please, Lisbon…just let me hold you. I don't expect anything. I promise."

She almost snorted. Yes, you don't expect anything, but what about me?

But there was no way she could leave him standing out there, alone and needy. So she strolled over and opened the door.

Jane pulled her into a tight embrace as soon as his eyes fell on her. She gasped, his arms were tight and unrelenting around her, his breath hot in her hair. She had trouble sucking air into her lungs.

"Thank god you're there, Lisbon," he whispered urgently into her ear "I would have gone insane in the attic tonight."

Lisbon closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

And she needed every ounce she could get. Jane was strange tonight, he didn't tolerate even a modicum of space between them. He everything but followed her to the bathroom, and when they lay in bed together, he held her in his arms like a drowning man. Desperate. Scared. He didn't want to watch TV. He just wanted to listen to her breath.

Lisbon endured everything, gently pushing her hands through his hair, which felt as glorious as it looked.

Eventually he grew so quiet that she almost thought he had fallen asleep when he suddenly pulled back and looked at her.

"I want to kiss you." He whispered.

No, everything inside her screamed, no, no, no. I can't bear it. Tomorrow you might be gone. And leave me here to starve. No.

"Yes." She said, and he pressed his lips to hers.

His kisses were light and non-threatening at first. Soft like the touch of a butterfly's wings, hardly deep enough that she could truly notice his taste. But she did taste him when his lips parted slightly, releasing sweet breath against her mouth. He moved against her, and she felt his hands pulling her closer, his lips grabbing hers with languid, slow movements, making tiny smacking noises whenever he broke away for a second.

Jane realized at the back of his mind that this might end in a complete disaster. But he was lost in this sensual hell her luscious mouth created, and couldn't stop no matter what his brain ordered him to do. His hands framed her face and he kissed her more and more, drunk from the heady sensations until he felt completely wasted with blissful delirium.

For once, his constantly analyzing mind was silent, and he couldn't understand what was happening. If he had, he would have stopped it immediately.

But he went on, went on, not pulling back until the tips of their tongues touched and they parted on a gasp as if burned, eyes swimming with moisture. Jane's fluttered shut.

"Good night, Lisbon," he whispered.

She lay in his embrace until his breathing calmed, his arms grew heavy around her. When she was sure he was asleep, she carefully extricated herself from his arms and fled the bedroom. She needed fresh air, preferably icy, right now.

As soon as she'd closed the door, Jane's eyes snapped open. He wasn't asleep.

He would never sleep again.

**TBC**

_I know, there's much "Let's not talk about it" in the room here, but both are emotionally scarred and don't want to love each other… let's see if I can change that, huh? One chapter of anguish left, be brave…then, I let her move in for the kill._


	6. Chapter 6

_Yeah, I know…more and more OOC, but you know me: taking Jane's unfaltering control is my guilty pleasure, so please- humor me. I can never resist to bring him to his knees :D…._

Someplace Warm

Chapter 6

When Jane left the bedroom early next morning, Lisbon was already gone. He hadn't expected anything else, she was raw and confused and had probably needed the time to get over last night.

He knew how she felt. He was pretty shaken himself.

He took an elaborate shower, letting the hot water run over his skin, and flinched slightly when the scent of her cinnamon shampoo reached his nostrils. He would smell like her today.

When he looked at his reflection in the mirror he shuddered slightly. Yesterday had been exceedingly painful for him, and he still didn't fully understand why he had behaved like this. But he could reestablish his firm control over his mind without problems, he was sure. He had been…urgent with Lisbon last night, but that was nothing that couldn't be repaired. They had just kissed, and not even used their tongues, so nothing…inappropriate had happened. Just some comfort between friends.

He knew she would forgive him. She always did.

But as soon as he entered the bullpen at CBI headquarters he knew that it would be a whole lot more difficult to make this right than he had anticipated.

Lisbon had almost barricaded herself in her office, the door closed, every single blind lowered. He couldn't see inside, couldn't see her. Part of him wanted to storm inside and confront her right now, but he decided against it- she needed more time, very well. He wouldn't rush her.

When he retreated to his couch, he felt a cold lump settle in his stomach, and the sadness filled him like a pile of stones. He couldn't help the feeling that something was lost irretrievably, something that had become so precious to him that he didn't know how to go on without it. Maybe he was a fool to think he could straighten this out.

Maybe disaster was already rolling their way.

Three hours into the day he decided he'd had enough and went to her office, entering without knocking. He stopped dead in his tracks when he found the room completely empty. She had left. Without him.

He returned to the bullpen and turned to van Pelt.

"Grace," he said, giving his voice an eerie calm that was far from his momentary state of mind "where's Lisbon?"

Grace's face was almost pitiful, and a knot of dread uncoiled in Jane's guts.

"She went to a crime scene," van Pelt said "and took Rigsby."

Jane tried to look cool and impassive.

And found he couldn't.

xxMentalistxx

Evening found him at her door again, like a love sick fool. Ridiculous, he was incapable of love. And she knew it, damn her.

She had avoided him the whole day, and he had let her, his heart so heavy it felt like sheer agony. He had finally snapped in the suffocating loneliness of the attic, the nightly shadows painting pictures on the ceiling. Dangerous thoughts entering his mind.

And suddenly he couldn't bear it any longer. He had to see her.

He knocked again and again, until his arm was numb and hurt. He wanted to scream for her but couldn't form the words. His mouth felt as if he'd chewed on cotton.

Finally, when he was about to fall to his knees and make a complete fool out of himself, she opened the door, effectively preventing his entry with her small frame, standing firmly in his path.

He felt his tears fall and saw the pain in her eyes. She pressed her lips together. Steeling herself, he could see it. She would push him away.

"Lisbon," he breathed "please- I don't know what happened yesterday, but please, let me in. I'm desperate and lonely and…I can't tolerate it tonight. Please."

"I can't." she said firmly.

"Why not?" he cried out in exasperation "We have a deal, Lisbon. It's still intact. I got…carried away last night, and maybe it was- a little too much. But I still don't expect anything of you, Teresa. If I do something you don't want- just stop me. We are friends, nothing more. And we still do have a deal, don't we?"

She looked away, and he could see the thoughts wandering through her mind. Hurting her. Finally, she met his eyes again and shook her head.

"The deal is off, Jane," she whispered, "I can't keep my promise."

"Why not?" he asked, severely out of breath.

Silence stretched like a blanket, covering them like a pall. Time rested for a moment, and no sound could be heard. Jane closed his eyes and thought maybe death would feel this way. But the pain in his chest told him otherwise. There would be no pain in death. While right now, he felt like a twitching heap of agony. His emotions went postal, and he didn't know why. He almost thought she wouldn't answer at all when she finally spoke in a small, forlorn voice.

"Because I love you."

And she closed the door in his face.

xxMentalistxx

Jane had realized the true dimensions of the disaster sometime during the night, all alone in the attic. And when he finally did understand what had happened, he cried for hours, cried like a small child without any restraints, for the second time in his adult life. The numbness drained from his soul and left him hurting, hurting so much he just wanted to die.

Damn, everything had been under control before he had struck this deal with Lisbon. A moment of weakness. His silly longing for comfort. Closeness. Her closeness.

He'd always been the smartest person in the room, nothing less. How could his own feelings tackle him like this?

He absolutely couldn't love. Mustn't love. Never. It was the ultimate complication, he didn't need drama, didn't need butterflies, didn't need silly emotions distracting him from his goal. Just his cool, emotionless, analytical skills. Wainwright had said he was a psychopath. Jane snorted. If he could see him now. Eyes puffy from crying, helplessly, heartbreakingly in love with his lady boss, so close to complete desperation just because he felt so much it was killing him.

But he couldn't. They couldn't.

It mustn't be.

XxMentalistxx

He entered her office the next morning and was about to start speaking when she interrupted him.

"Stop," she said, raising her hand "let me talk first. I want to apologize for the way I behaved yesterday. It was…unprofessional. Very much so. I- what I said was true. But that should present no problem for our working relationship. I… I can fall out of love again, I'm sure. It will need some time, but I'm braver than my recent behavior indicates, I'm no sentimental cry-baby. I swallow that down and toughen up. But…we shouldn't see each other anymore. In private, I mean. There is no reason why my…inappropriate feelings should affect our work. Hell, there is not even a reason why they should affect…you."

He sat down on her couch and looked at her, a creepy calm entering his mind.

"I'm afraid, dear Lisbon," he sighed "it's far too late for that."

"What do you mean?" she said, almost aghast now.

"Love seems to be contagious," he whispered "and I'm already infected, too."

For a moment, they both didn't know what to say. The air was thick with confusion and turmoil. Hardly breathable.

"We can't do this, Jane." Lisbon said softly when she found her words again.

"I know." He answered, his voice hoarse.

Lisbon started to pace the room.

"My job," she breathed "it's all I ever had, and we endanger all that. If we can't make this work... and…I suck at being in love. We can't have a relationship. We just can't."

"I know," he repeated "I'm not ready, Lisbon. I might never be again. I…I just can't. It's not possible."

"So," she sighed, sounding so lost he had to swallow several times, "we fall out of love again?"

He nodded, smiling a sad smile.

"Yes," he said "that's the only way."

They shared a moment of painful silence before he got up and moved to leave the room. He turned around at the threshold.

"One thing, Lisbon," he said "let me visit you tonight…one last time. I promise I won't touch you. I will sleep on the couch, in my clothes. But I don't want you to be alone right now. The loneliness hurts far more when you're in love, you know."

"Yes," she breathed, the words almost indiscernible "I know."

Something inside her desperately wanted to hold tight, keep him as close as she could. Dig her claws into him. Although she knew she should just let him go. She looked into his eyes and couldn't. Didn't want to believe that this was it.

And that was the only reason why she even considered his dangerous, heart-breaking, stupid offer.

"Okay," she heard herself say.

And when he had closed the door behind him, she sat down in her chair, put her face on her desktop and started to cry.

TBC

_Okay, I'm bad. But the next chapter will wander into comfort-area on a vigorous stride, I promise! And it will be the last. But: I will write an exceedingly fluffy feel-good-epilogue after chapter seven, can't go without in this case._


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay- this chapter might graze the M- sector. I 'll behave, though. I won't get down and dirty here, it's not a smut story, and the scene follows a purpose I won't abandon. So don't shy away, there's no need to be scared._

_Otherwise: let the fluff begin! From now on, it will get SERIOUSLY FLUFFY :D. Be prepared!_

_THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND ENCOURAGEMENT AND SUPPORT! I'm so glad you're out there!_

Someplace Warm

Chapter seven

They hardly talked.

Jane cooked for her, like he'd done countless times before. But this was the last time. He had no doubt about it.

He couldn't stop looking at her.

The graceful arch of her slim body. The way her hair moved when she turned her head. Her huge emerald eyes, swimming with unshed tears despite the forced smile she showed him.

She was everything that was precious and good in his life these days. And he was about to lose her. After this night, their friendship would be gone. She would deny it, but he knew better. They couldn't fall out of love. The ache in their hearts would remain, and the only way to bear it was to stay away from each other. It would be like this from now on. Awkward. Silent. They'd be nothing more than co-workers. She would recline invitations when he attended. He would do the same. They would drift apart. But the pain would be there forever.

His hands itched to touch her. Hold her close while he cried, melted into her, sealed a fate that might be impossible, but the only thing he wished for in this very moment. He swallowed. It would hurt so much to leave this sanctuary in the morning, knowing he would never come back.

He noticed that he had cut himself with the kitchen knife and licked the small drop of blood from the tip of his index finger.

Lisbon retired early, and Jane crashed on the couch feeling utterly empty. Maybe he should leave. Go on a journey. Get lost in a godforsaken jungle.

He looked longingly at her bedroom door.

He wouldn't go anywhere without her. He knew.

xxMentalistxx

Three hours. She'd lain here for three hours, trying to go to sleep. She snorted. She wouldn't sleep in a million years, whom was she kidding?

Her skin felt cold. Her hot tears burning paths of fire into her clammy cheeks.

She expected him to be gone when she came out of the room in the morning. It would be over then. They would try to behave "normally" on the job and fail miserably. Every trace of warmth would lead to more longing, more heartache. So they could just play it cool. Factional. Marbly. It would kill them inside. And there was nothing they could do.

She bit back the sob that bubbled up in her throat and curled into a ball.

She would spend the rest of her days alone. Working. Preferably all the time. Maybe she would choose a spot in the attic like…

Jane. Jane who had been there when she'd needed him. Jane who had cooked for her. Laughed with her. Who had sung along while watching TV. Who knew her better than anyone else in the whole wide world, including her brothers. Who had kissed her goodnight. Brought her coffee and donuts. Who's hair felt so soft…

She sat up abruptly. Did she want that? Cling to her job like a drowning recluse, curtly nodding at him when he passed her by in CBI's hallways, working her cases next to him without as much as a smile? Treating him like a case-closing-machine, while deep inside her she still loved him, loved him so much her heart felt aflame, so much she wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't be truly happy one single day in her life without him, would grow old still dreaming about his smile, his touch, until…

No. She could do better than that. She deserved better than that, for god's sake.

Time to prove how brave she really was.

She got up and went into the living room, stopping at the threshold.

He sat on the couch, still dressed. Wide awake. His hair was disheveled as if he'd repeatedly raked his hands through it. His eyes were so lost, so woebegone that she felt like doubling-over. But she straightened instead.

"Come to bed, Jane," she said softly, looking him straight in the eye "I don't want you to sleep here."

He could read in her eyes what she really meant and got up slowly. He came closer, until his shoes touched her bare toes. She felt the warmth of his body and damn, she was so, so cold, she wouldn't survive if he didn't hold her.

"What about the job?" he asked softly.

"I don't care," she whispered "what about you not being ready?"

"I don't care."

And their lips met the moment he engulfed her in his arms, delicious heat seeping into her, thawing the numbness from her limbs.

"You're cold," he breathed against her mouth.

"Don't talk now, for heaven's sake," she growled back.

She pulled him into the bedroom and shoved him down onto the mattress, making him grunt when she threw herself on top of him full force.

He took her slight weight gladly and soothed her while she cried into his shirt.

"Why don't you change into your cute pajamas?" she asked after a long while, still sniffling slightly.

He smiled.

"I don't think I want to look cute right now," he answered softly, and she lifted her head to look at him.

His smile deepened. Damn, she looked adorable, her cheeks wet, her eyes slightly red and puffy from all the crying. He framed her face with his hands and pulled her closer, kissing her tears away.

And she just let…whatever lead the way.

She started to open the buttons on his vest, then his shirt, and he held his breath, his eyes fluttering shut in a mixture of fear and bliss, his heart-beat rapid and noisy to his own ears. She pulled the fabric away from his upper body and he felt shy and exposed for a moment, which was strange- he'd never been timid before. Even nudity didn't make him blush, and Lisbon knew it- she had caught him under the shower in the CBI's men's room some years ago, and she'd been the only one blushing.

"Relax," she whispered and kissed him softly, hearing him sigh beneath her lips "your love is so much more than I ever thought I would get- I ran out of expectations. Whatever happens now-I'm perfectly fine with it. We can just lie here and stare at each other."

He smiled. Like a stream of liquid sunshine breaking through angry clouds. She heard his shoes fall to the floor with a satisfying thud.

He turned, bringing her beneath him, and his kisses changed, growing warmer, warmer, until his lips were blazing hot against hers and she opened her mouth to drink from him, letting his taste invade everywhere, until she sensed him in every cell of her body. His tongue slid against hers, sweet as the ice cream she loved so much. Just a million times better.

Their clothes had evaporated, or hadn't they? She couldn't remember and didn't care. She felt their bodies dent the mattress, was lost in a flurry of touch and movement, his lips anchored her to a different reality, and she kissed him back fiercely, wet, warm, open-mouthed. His hand slid over the ticklish spot at her hip, and she shuddered violently, feeling the pressure of his body all over her trembling frame. All remnants of cold were yesterday's memories.

Her head fell back, and he deepened the kiss, deeper and deeper until he had to come up for breath. She looked at him. His eyes were wild and scared and determined, and he shook his head slightly, silently begging her not to say anything right now. She wouldn't dream of it.

He kissed her again, and she slowly spread her legs without a single coherent thought involved in the process, letting her hips slip between her thighs. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, she could feel his heart hammering, felt hers match the rhythm.

He slid into her without effort until both gasped into each other's mouth, and he broke the kiss, pressing his face against her shoulder. Both lay still for some moments, she heard his harsh breathing, her own body a single, violent pulse. Her hand rested against his back. She dug her fingers into his skin, and then dug deeper.

Jane's skin was aflame. Everywhere, but the feeling centered between his legs, and he felt absolutely helpless. And namelessly aroused. Her skin tasted so addictive, he lapped at her neck, absorbing her sweet, heady flavor. Her lower body twitched, and a strangled cry fell from his lips.

The rhythm came to him all on its own, as soon as he abandoned all remnants of thought that might have inhabited his mind. Jane surrendered to the soft movements his body dictated, clutching her as tight as he could without hurting her. His skin tingled all over, and the sweet burn rapidly fired up, until it was almost, almost unbearable, but still so sweet and luscious he never wanted it to end.

Lisbon let herself be pulled under. His strokes rolled through her like ocean waves, strong, wild, relentless, until he picked up speed and she felt herself drowning, all control gone in the torrent of sensations, and all tension exploded in a soundless scream, nameless pleasure making her eyes roll back into her head at the exact same moment she felt his whole body go rigid in her arms, felt the gush of his heat deep inside her. He shook heavily, his breath rushing against her neck, through her hair. Lisbon was spent and sweaty and giddy with satisfaction, her heart about to come out of her chest with bliss.

Her hands slid over his back, felt the thin layer of moisture there and the welts her fingernails had left on his skin. He kissed her ear, sensual, breathy kisses, his lips hot against her, so hot despite the fact that her body was already blazing.

Her hands drove into his hair and he rubbed his nose against her collarbone, kissing the sharply protruding ridge tenderly while he savored her touch.

The stayed like this for a long time, but he finally rolled aside to relieve her from his weight, and she bit back the whimper of disapproval that threatened to escape when their bodies separated.

He pulled her flush against him with a tiny groan and almost smiled. Again, he used her to shield him from his own confusion. He couldn't be without her, he wouldn't survive a single day. His heart struggled with a whole flash-flood of love, guilt, fear, desire, bewilderment and happiness. He let it wash through him, not holding on to a single emotion. He held on to her instead, finding comfort in the closeness of her warmth, her vibrant, tiny body next to him. Like the nights before. Like it should be, dammit.

"Still in love with me?" he asked eventually, smiling against her skin, and she felt an enormous smile break out on her face as well.

"More than ever," she whispered, "I'm afraid we suck at this 'falling-out-of-love'-stuff pretty much."

"Darn," he chuckled, "isn't there anything regarding this love-business we can do right, for god's sake?"

"Well," she said softly, "I can think of one thing or two."

She looked at him and sighed softly. She'd never, ever seen him like this. His hair was utterly disheveled (Patrick Jane had certainly never allowed somebody to see him like this in years), his eyes were soft and warm, his face open like the petals of a flower in the hot sun of noon, he had cried, and he was smiling. He was picture-perfect.

She let her fingers slide over his face, feeling the slight stubble on his jaw.

"I can't run away from you just because I'm scared, Jane." She said " I can't run because maybe, just maybe we can't make this work. That's stupid. It is like saying 'something could happen to separate us down the road so we better break up now so we won't be hurt later. Let's be hurt now instead.' Let's be happy now, dammit."

"You know," he chuckled "sometimes I doubt that I'm the smartest person in the room. At least in this room."

"Well, I have my deep moments. What about you, Jane? Do you feel ready?"

"I'm sick of all my 'ready-or-not'-musings." He sighed "I just want to do what feels good for a change. With you. I'm the worst possible boyfriend-material you could pick, and you know it. But his is right, Lisbon. You make me a better man. How can I say no to that?"

They were silent for a moment, and Lisbon started to doubt that this was real, that it wasn't just a dream that would leave her insane with longing when she woke up. She kissed him, tracing his lips with her tongue, sweetly exploring their texture.

"Damn." She whispered "I love you, you know?"

"Yes." He answered " I know. I love you, too."

"We're nuts."

"Absolutely, Lisbon. Absolutely."

He looked straight into her eyes.

"Will you marry me and have my baby, Lisbon? I don't have any more time to lose."

And for a moment, she truly didn't know if he was serious. Until she saw his grin.

_Okay….that was a T-rated sex scene, wasn't it? I didn't describe any genitalia, didn't use any bad words (although, damn- I LOVE bad words :D!)…that okay with you? There'll be an epilogue tomorrow!_

_And (I tell you): after this story is finished, I'll write a one-shot where I'll use as many bad words as I can…I just feel like it right now :D!_


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

Lisbon crossed her arms across her chest. The realtor started to get impatient, tapping his foot against the flawless parquet. Not that it bothered her, but Patrick Jane had been wandering the halls for almost three hours now, opening every door, every window, touching, testing, watching…

"Uhm, Mrs. Lisbon…" the realtor started.

"Agent Lisbon." she interrupted with an emphatic smile.

"Well, AGENT Lisbon," the bald, rather nervous man corrected himself, "what if I just leave you the keys and you tell me if you want to buy the house tomorrow, huh? Mr. Jane…doesn't seem to be a man of fast decisions."

She accepted the key and didn't comment. Funnily, Patrick Jane WAS a man of fast decisions. At least normally.

She strode through the rooms, searching for him, finding him in the living-room in front of the fireplace.

„You don't do anything half-heartedly, do you, Patrick Jane?," she chuckled.

She expected him to smile his charming megawatt-smile, but he just looked at her, very serious.

"I absolutely don't want to bungle this, Lisbon," he said softly, "You mean too much to me. If I lose you, I'll definitely stay alone for the rest of my days- there's only so much breaking my heart can take. That means…I'm pretty scared right now. Which is a novelty, so I would enjoy it as long as it lasts if I were you."

Lisbon smiled, and he found himself smiling back. She walked over to him and slipped effortlessly into his embrace.

"We are a sorry pair, aren't we?" she whispered "Two of the most emotionally challenged people in the department- I bet they have quite a laugh about us."

"Oh yes," Jane smiled, kissing her lips softly "I'm sure they have."

For a moment, they just shared emotions through their open mouths, breathing from each other until Jane's worries faded away. They would make this work. She was his. He broke the kiss with a soft smack and smiled at her, putting everything he couldn't possibly say into his eyes.

Lisbon smiled back and changed the topic before she started to cry. Hadn't she told him that she wasn't a cry-baby, dammit?

"I'm surprised Wainwright didn't give us more trouble, though," she mused.

"Are you kidding?" he chuckled, nuzzling her ear "I was talking so much and shared so many utterly intimate details, he was just glad to get me out of his office. And he's a class A bureaucrat…it's his job to find loopholes, so he'd better do what I pay him for."

"What YOU pay him for?" she asked incredulously.

"Well," he shrugged "I pay taxes..."

He chuckled when she slapped his arm and started to wander through the room, looking at everything again.

"You know what?" he said slowly "Let's take this house. I'm sick of the attic big time, and your bath tub is too small."

"It's not!" she cried out "It wasn't supposed to contain a man- you're too big!"

"I'm certainly not, Lisbon," he snorted "I just need some space around me when I'm bathing. And what about you? You want to queue up with your little towel while I take a bath, all alone?" He turned and looked pointedly at her "You know that I hate to be alone these days. No, the huge tub in that bathroom over there is just right…"

"I like my old bath tub…"Lisbon whined.

He walked over to her, bowed down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss on her lips.

"Then let's see if I can make you like this one even more…"

And she had no doubt he could.

**The End**

_Okay, I hope that was okay- I wanted to return them to a little bit more light-hearted level and hope I succeeded. Them moving in together isn't quite as far-fetched for me as it might seem at first: they are not sixteen anymore, and for both, this is pretty much it. So…I found the conclusion fitting in this story. Tell me what you think!_


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